Perception
by IamDoctorWholocked
Summary: Over half the population of the UK has eye problems. Irrelevant, Boring. But wait- Sherlock's part of that 50%? And he's forgotten to buy new contact lenses? Looks like it's going to be a fun, fun day ahead for John! And why yes, that is Sherlock's skull wearing a pair of glasses. Ingenious, hmm? :D


**Perception**

It was a quiet morning at 221B. John was thankful for this. Peace was rare for the life he and Sherlock lead. The criminals, psychopaths, cases, murders, experiments... sometimes John just needed to stop and relax for a moment.

_**CRASH!**_

A loud noise echoed through the flat as Sherlock stumbled through the door from his bedroom tripping over his own feet as he did so. He regained his balance for a moment, straightening his clothes. He took a deep breath, walked forward... and proceeded to collide with kitchen table. Sherlock landed on the floor, a stunned expression on his face.

"Sherlock?" Asked John cautiously, "Er, are you okay?"

Sherlock blinked for a moment before answering,

"Yes, yes- perfectly fine," He said reaching out his hand to grab onto something to pull himself up.

John looked at Sherlock closer. He was blinking alot and his eyes were darting around the room but never focusing on anything. They had a distant look that worried John a bit.

"You didn't take anything?" Asked John suddenly, fearing a relapse.

Sherlock made an annoyed face.

"Don't be stupid John. I have no wish to return to those days," He replied in his superior voice.

"Pardon me for me worried," Muttered John, "So what is wrong with you?" He added louder.

"Nothing's wrong with me," He retorted almost automatically, finally managing to reach a chair and fall into it.

John raised his eyebrows but said nothing. If Sherlock wanted to be stubborn that was fine with him. He began to read the newspaper until Sherlock gave a small cough.

"Are you going shopping today?" He asked not making any move to start his breakfast.

"No," Answered John, "I went yesterday."

"Oh..." Trailed off Sherlock, "It's just there's something I need."

John looked up with an irritated expression.

"Get your own shopping then!" He complained.

"That might be a problem," Mumbled Sherlock quietly.

"Oh and why's that?" Demanded John. He wasn't about to go and fetch items from the shop for Sherlock!

Sherlock ignored him and got up from the chair. He made it half way across the room before bashing into something else. John rose too unsure whether to rush forwards and help. He decided the latter after Sherlock made three failed attempts to walk again. Sherlock batted away his concern.

"I just need something from my room!" He argued.

"I'll get it," Offered John stopping his attempts at getting Sherlock to ascend.

"Drawers closet to the door, second one down," Instructed Sherlock realising it would be easier if John fetched the item.

John entered Sherlock's room slowly. It felt wrong to be entering his room. It was like it was a place of secrecy that shouldn't be disturbed. He paused for a moment, looking around.

"Hurry up!" Yelled Sherlock from where he was sitting.

John opened the drawer quickly and looked inside. Some documents lay inside. He proceeded to lift these and bring them back to the man waiting.

"Read it," Sherlock instructed.

John glanced at the papers. It was a prescription. John felt his face turn surprised as he realised what for.

Contact Lenses.

Sherlock wore contact lenses? He'd never realised. The Consulting Detective had always seen every detail no matter how small at crime scenes so it seemed ridiculous his sight was impaired.

_That's because he was wearing the lenses, _John's mind scolded him. Obviously.

It was still strange though. To think that Sherlock relied on something so diminutive. Without them he'd be unable to work.

Sherlock watched as John read the papers.

"I need new lenses," He explained, "That's why I've been tripping over everything."

John looked at the replacement schedule. 2-3 months. Sherlock must've forgotten to replace his lenses and today was the day he stopped wearing the old ones. He snickered suddenly.

"What?" Demanded Sherlock, his eyes narrowing.

"So basically, you're rendered blind until I you get new ones?" He asked slyly.

"Yes...?" Said Sherlock, unsure of where this was going.

"So," Said John, flopping onto the sofa, "Why should I get you new ones?"

Sherlock opened his mouth in horror. He hated being so blind. He wanted the new contacts immediately. He _needed_ them. He couldn't work without them!

"Please," He asked, a pleading tone entering his voice.

John smiled. It was somewhat satisfying to here Sherlock be polite.

"Fine," He agreed opening his laptop.

"What are you doing?" Demanded Sherlock.

"Ordering them online. I'm pretty sure that's easier and I'm also not the best person to be buying you contacts from a store." He explained. Truthfully, he really couldn't be bothered today to head out looking for contact lenses.

He scanned over the websites clicking on all the options for Sherlock. When he was finished he turned back to Sherlock.

"They'll arrive tomorrow," He informed him.

"Tomorrow?" Exclaimed Sherlock, "I can't wait that long- I need them NOW!"

"That's physically impossible Sherlock. I had to pay extra for them to arrive tomorrow! Can you at least live a day without them?"

"Fine," Huffed Sherlock glaring at the wall. He could survive one day. It wasn't that bad...

Suddenly his phone beeped. Sherlock lunged for where it sat on the table. He desperately glanced at the screen before remembering he couldn't read it.

"Shall I?" Inquired John.

Sherlock silently passed the phone to him.

"_Case near Baker Street. Can you come? Lestrade."_ John read aloud, "I don't think so Sherlock." He added himself.

"Why not?" Demanded Sherlock folding his arms across his chest.

"You aren't exactly the most cautious type with your eyesight- never mind without it! And you won't be able to see anything. It's pointless."

Sherlock realised this would mean he'd have to do something he'd hoped he'd be able to avoid. He walked over to his coat and reached into one of the pockets. He pulled out a small case.

"Is that...?" John's eyes widened.

Sherlock opened it. Inside was a pair of glasses. He pulled them onto his face with an annoyed expression. After blinking a couple of times his vision cleared.

"Ah, that's better although the glasses are most irksome,"

John stared, a little bit gobsmacked. Sherlock was wearing glasses. That thought was just too strange. He'd never imagined the man wearing those things.

In all honest truth, the glasses actually suited Sherlock. Then again, _everything _suited Sherlock. It seemed unfair that someone who tried so little could look so good.

"Are you coming, John?"

John looked up and realised he'd been sitting motionless for a couple of minutes.

Sherlock sniffed in annoyance.

"Surely my glasses aren't _that _bad. Although Mycroft's opinion would differ... he seems to rather enjoy harassing me about them."

John coughed, "Uh... yeah, sure. Just let me get my coat..."

oOo

Sherlock and John stormed onto the crime scene, Sherlock's coat flapping out behind them, wind blowing through their hair and looks of determination upon their faces.

Only to be greeted by...

Anderson.

Anderson who was blinking in confusion.

Anderson who was watching Sherlock with a bemused expression.

"Um, since when did the Freak wear glasses?"

"Oh, for God's sake," Replied Sherlock, rolling his eyes, "Must you be so annoying?"

He pushed past Anderson with a hard shove and headed towards the dead body. Lestrade was walking around, taking notes from the rest of his team.

"Hi Sherlock, John," He greeted without looking up. Sherlock nodded before diving straight into the crime scene.

Lestrade finished jotting down something and looked up towards John.

"Thanks for coming. I need everything you've got Sherlock, please. Tough case."

Sherlock cocked his head slightly before swooping up and turning up towards Lestrade so his coat billowed out behind him. John rolled his eyes. Honestly. Sometimes he thought Sherlock only wore the coat because of its floatiness. Or coolness.

Sherlock had just opened his mouth to start speaking when Lestrade cut him off with a small yelp of surprise.

"What?" Demanded Sherlock narrowing his eyes.

Lestrade covered his smile with a hand.

"Nothing, nothing... just nice glasses."

Sherlock groaned.

"What is wrong with people wearing glasses?" He demanded, "I hate them anyway. I don't need you to tell me how strange they are. Uh, how I hate being visually impaired!"

Lestrade jokingly backed away with his arms raised.

"Woah, relax! I just complimented them. Anyway, loads of people wear glasses. _I _do."

"I feel so comforted," Sherlock muttered rudely.

Lestrade must've been the most patient man in the world or else he was just very used to Sherlock because he graciously ignored the comment.

"Anyway, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Sherlock threw his hands up in frustration.

"Yes but you're all...normal!"

John raised his eyebrows in amusement. Trust Sherlock to find glasses a thing for 'normal people'. He rolled his eyes and mouthed a brief 'sorry' at Lestrade.

Sherlock turned quickly and began storming away.

"Come on John!" He yelled.

"I'm coming!" John huffed, annoyed.

Lestrade ran after Sherlock, panic flitting across his face.

"H-hey! What about the case?"

"The case is boring. Why don't you lot try and solve it by yourself for once?" Sherlock stated coolly, without breaking stride.

As they both hopped into a cab, John turned to Sherlock.

"That was more than just slightly childish Sherlock!" He scolded.

"Oh- relax. The case really _is _simple. I'll text him the details later anyway."

"Fine."

John reached forward and tapped the Cab driver on the shoulder.

"Hey, do you mind if we could make a quick stop before we arrive at Baker St?" He requested.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Stopping to pick up some contact lenses."

"I- but... but what about the ones you've ordered?"

John smiled kindly at his friend,

"You can save those or something. I don't think I can take another 24 hours with you annoying everyone you see. Or… don't see. I don't know- depends how you look at it." That statement earned him a long, pointed glare.

Sherlock hugged his knees to his chest in a childish manner. John had tried many times to teach Sherlock why he _shouldn't _put his feet on the furniture but Sherlock just ignored him.

"Stop taking advantage of my handicap."

"Handicap?" John spluttered, "Hey- I'm the one with the bad soldier and past limp! At least half of the UK wears glasses probably."

"68% actually" Corrected Sherlock in his superior tone.

"Fine. Don't be such a perfectionist," Replied John acting annoyed, but really he was laughing inside. What an interesting day. Life with Sherlock was never boring, even if the only exciting thing happening was Sherlock wearing glasses. An interesting day indeed.

Thank god it was almost over.

oOo

_**A/N: **__And hoorah- it's finished! I've had this saved on my computer half finished for agggeeeesss! I kept coming back, writing more and then leaving it. So I'm really sorry if it doesn't flow perfectly smooth but I did try to write it well! Thanks for reading though and hoped you enjoyed it! If you did why don't you let me know with a small review? :D _

_And yep, I'm pretty sure the Cumberbatch would look drop dead gorgeous in glasses. Better than I look in mine anyways. Actually, I think this fic started because I was annoyed at how I have to keep taking my glasses on and off to see things (I'm a part time wearer). Yes, if I'm annoyed, Sherlock suffers the repercussions. Isn't that how fanfiction works?_

_Bye! x_


End file.
